


a father, first and foremost, a failure

by courtjester_sidechick



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Family Issues, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Memories, November 16th War, Older Siblings Wilber Soot and Technoblade, THEY'RE A FAMILY YOUR HONOUR, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:34:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29375010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courtjester_sidechick/pseuds/courtjester_sidechick
Summary: November 16th. Wilbur’s explosion was a little more deadly than anyone could’ve expected. Philza’s sons were gone and he didn’t know if he could cope with it being his fault.He failed his family.
Relationships: TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Kudos: 36





	a father, first and foremost, a failure

**Author's Note:**

> If any of the creators mentioned have any issues with this fic, I will take it down immediately. Please give your love and support to the incredible song that inspired this fic on YouTube. 
> 
> Inspired by “November 16th - Philza’s Theme [Dream SMP]”, Kanaya. Please listen to it whilst reading if you can; this would not exist without it.

_ ‘They say time heals, so why do I feel so alone.  _

_ They say time heals, it feels as though hope is all gone.’ _

_ \--- _

Philza felt like his chest was about to burst open. There was a weight there, affecting his centre of gravity, pulling him forward on unsteady knees. Half-collapsing, half crawling to the chest at the other end of his living room. Wings dragging on the ground, limp and exhausted, brushing in the dust and the dirt that had gathered as the house went neglected in the face of war. 

His eyes burned and a sob rose in his throat at the realisation, hands gripping at the edge of the chest (finally… finally), it gave him the strength to pull himself up. He lay over the opening, just gasping into the space, tears hitting the focus of his search. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to grab it quite yet, everything was too raw, too soon (God, how could he have let this happen?). 

It was in his hands, in his lap, as he let his head rest against the stairs. They were stone and cool, and brought attention to the throbbing in his mind. It had become numb in the face of everything (Philza had become numb, and look where that got him. Got them.)

Leather. Worn. Comfort. 

He ran a thumb over the covering, and for a second he forgot everything, for a moment, he didn’t feel like throwing up (and crying, crying until he had no more tears). But that wasn’t real. Then he was frantic to pretend for a moment longer. To see them safe. To see them all together again (To see them at a time when he hadn’t failed them). 

Philza closed his eyes and prayed to a God he wasn’t sure existed (because how could this happen to his family, to his sons, to his boys), for them to be together again, even if it was without him. A small, secret part of him hoped they could see him, to see how sorry he was, to see how much he loved them.

The first page was, fittingly, the start of it all. Technoblade (He was  _ so  _ young. How did it get to this?). His little piglin, still so new to the world, so new to him. He was sitting in the long grass outside of their first house; it had barely come to Philza’s knees, but it encompassed Technoblade. He was a flash of pink and confusion (vibrant, and alive… so alive) within the nature around him, holding his first practice sword. It was gold and reflected the sun. A weak smile flickered across Phizal’s face through his tears as he remembered how Techno spent more time trying to chase the sun's beams than hit the dummy (When had he lost that innocence? When had swords become a symbol of death?). 

Philza’s heartbeat rose (and then it broke all over again because they were gone, gone, gone) as Wilbur’s face was introduced on the next page. Missing a tooth, a scraggy beanie on his head and Techno’s arm around his shoulder, Wilbur was beaming. Philza could’ve built temples to celebrate that smile, yet grief made his body scream and scramble to rip out the page so he wouldn’t have to face what he did. 

He didn’t rip it out, but he did turn over. 

Tommy. His youngest, the child of the family, the one who should’ve been protected. The one who should never have even seen the war, never mind been a part of it, been forced to lead it. He was in between his two brothers, mouth open in a scream (as it always was, and Philza was struck silent as he realised he’d never hear another sound from Tommy again) as he attempted to tag Wilbur before Techno got him. 

Philza could only trace a finger over their forms, knowing it didn’t truly matter now. He would never see them again, be able to hold them again (he should’ve held them more; he knows he should’ve, should’ve kept them close and never let them go), so what did matter if he found himself struggling to recall just how much taller Wilbur was than Tommy? 

What did it matter if the details of his family were slowly slipping away if the real thing had already fallen through his fingers? All because he was too ‘busy’, too ‘busy’ with stupid things that didn’t matter - that were a result of his pride, his arrogance, to prove that he was still the warrior people remembered him to be. 

War. He chose war in the face of family and he regretted it everyday since. 

_ November 16th, the day his son let go of all his dreams as he said to him, it was never meant to be. _

  
  



End file.
